Wounded Soul
by SableContraindication
Summary: Disillusioned with the wizarding world, Severus Snape retreats to his self-appointed exile in an unlikely part of the world. Slowly, he learns to cope with his dark past through the inexplicably enchanting music that invades his solitude. Who is this stranger who casts spells with nothing more than her two hands and set of ivory keys?
1. Chapter One

A/N: The magical world of Harry Potter and all characters from said world of wonder belong to J.K. Rowling, not me. All characters original to this fanfiction do, however, belong to me. I do not make any money from this work, just reviews and entertained readers.

As this is my first fanfiction, please make your judgements with a kind heart and your feedback with kind words. Pardon my Americanisms, errors, and anything else that doesn't suit your tastes. This story is AU will likely not be consistent with Rowling's depiction of magical America. Sorry.

I decided to post the first few chapters of this work in progress in a vain attempt to keep myself motivated. I've been thinking of this story for a while now and am hoping that some feedback from the world at large will inspire me to keep writing. That being said, please tell me what you think! If you like what you're reading and where you think this is going, tell me so. I'm afraid this tale might wither and die without motivating words...

* * *

He paused just inside the doorway as the wind nudged the front door shut behind him. Its faint creak and click spoke volumes in the dusty silence. The dry, stale air filled his lungs with a mixture of relief and regret as he took a steadying breath in. What had once been nothing more than a brief refuge was now to be his residence for the indeterminate future. Severus sighed inwardly at the thought. Although he rather prided himself on his ability to adapt to changing situations – a trait that had kept him alive on numerous occasions – his reluctance to this personal exile was an unwelcome weakness.

Setting his trunk against the wall near the small row of hooks by the door, he deftly shrugged out of his overcoat and hung it. Entertaining a wistful desire for his previous life's comforts was a fool's errand. He knew full well there had been little so-called comfort during those dark times.

Clenching his jaw, Severus set about with a determination to rid himself of what he knew was surely a weakness. In a single, swift movement that attested to his many years as a wizard, he drew his wand and gave a quick jab at the blackened fireplace. Flames burst against the grate with a healthy puff of smoke, crackling the old house into life. The day was not particularly cold, but the early September wind had brought a chill. Striding forward through the small sitting room, he forcefully pried open the decrepit windows to the left of the mantle, the shutters swinging out with enough aggression to hit the exterior of the humble structure with a loud bang. It sent the crows who had been scouring his overgrown yard up into the air with a shriek that Severus found oddly cathartic.

The same wind that had ushered him into the home now tickled his face as it passed gratefully inside the stale building. Severus glared at the scrap of nature he owned. It was the same look that had cowered many a student into submission, the same look that had the ability to part a crowded hallway like the Red Sea before him.

This property was his, and it would know it.

The illustrious Potions Master, ex-Death Eater, and former Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had finally come to stay.

Not for the first time, the flames danced before his eyes in the darkness, lulling him into another morbid reverie. Severus huddled further into the thin blanket he had wrapped around his person. The bottle of Firewhisky and glass tumbler discarded on the coffee table before him, he leaned his head back against the couch and cursed his clever mind. He was a highly proficient Occlumens, able to dupe the darkest wizard of the age, yet the dancing light of the flames had a seductive way of enticing memories he had long since suppressed to the surface. With a snort, he took a moment to appreciate the irony of his own inability to ward his thoughts from himself. What use was an impeccably trained mind if it had a habit of indulging in masochism?

The many items he had accrued over the years he spent as a professor were spilling from the limited shelves and cabinets of the house. They had been easy enough to magically shrink and pack into the expandable trunk. Now they looked almost comical: a myriad of books stuffed roughly onto ancient shelves and a legion of potions ingredients overcrowding the kitchen cabinets to litter the counter tops. He did admit that it gave the previously abandoned rooms a cozy feeling, not dissimilar to the overstuffed couch upon which he was currently lounging.

Lazy.

Perhaps it had become routine, he thought to himself. His previous, brief encounters with this place had been spent in an attempt at utter relaxation. An attempt to do nothing, with the hope that the excessive distance between himself and the world he knew would keep him sane. A long-fingered hand swept up to pinch the bridge of his impressive nose in disdain. As if he could ever have truly escaped the warring attentions of both Dumbledore and the Dark Lord during his brief sojourns to this wilderness over the holidays. The summers he spent moping about Spinner's End pining for lost love had only exacerbated his need for an escape to keep his sanity. Years later than he should have, he realized – prompted by the idiot Potter boy's arrival at Hogwarts – that he desperately needed a change of scenery, if only for the short holiday breaks. On a whim, he had purchased this remote plot of land in the most unlikely place anyone would think to seek him out: America. Not even the America that was just across the pond, but the Pacific Northwest along the West Coast.

Of course, he couldn't spend the summers here with his view of the magnificent Mt. Rainier. Oh no, that would have been too pleasant. It simply would not do. His life had never made any allowances for pleasantries. He had to spend the warm season in his dank childhood home, where he could be called upon by either of his two masters. His balancing act of appeasing and spying on the two greatest wizards in Britain had taken its toll on his sanity, the near-constant anxiety fraying away at his nerves until he wasn't sure how many were left. Thus, his rare visits to this shabby excuse of a house had been spent recuperating, trying to gauge if he still had any ability to feel. Such a futile attempt it had been.

Then again, perhaps his efforts hadn't been completely without merit. He had survived in the end, hadn't he?

And then, only just.

Scraping his mangled body across the Shrieking Shack, he had left the empty vials of venom antidote and Blood Replenishing Potion in his crimson wake. He had barely had enough sense to head toward the village, rather than the school. He shuddered to think what would have happened if he had turned up during the battle in that state. Severus had no doubt that there were any number of lower-ranking Death Eaters who wouldn't have hesitated to finish him off. Instead, he had painstakingly crawled his way to the outskirts of Hogmeade until his agony finally caused him to pass out.

With an abrupt motion, he swooped forward to pour another swig of Firewhisky into the tumbler. It shot down his throat and temporarily burned away the memories that should have been hazy with past pain, but were sharply focused instead. Still fresh after all this time.

Yes, he had survived, against all odds and certainly against all of his predictions. The moment he cast the Killing Curse on Albus he thought he had effectively sealed his own fate as well. There would be no way of coming back from that, he had been sure.

Hero.

That's what they called him.

What utter rubbish.

It had been easy enough to deal with the Potter boy when he looked upon Severus with hatred, but now those green eyes shone with something else. Gratitude? Adoration?

Forgiveness?

It make him sick, to think that those eyes – Lily's eyes – now gazed at him with an emotion he knew he would never see from the woman to whom he had dedicated his life. He should have known better, should have foreseen his uncanny knack for survival. He should never have given up his tortuously treasured memories on what should have been his deathbed.

And it wasn't just Potter, either. Suddenly all of the wizarding world wanted to give him their thanks, to honor him, to award him. He hated the attention, the unraveling of all his secrecy. It was incongruous with everything he had built his life around. The decision to make the permanent move to this place had not been a difficult one. He had only allowed himself two of the many tokens of appreciation thrust upon him: the Order of Merlin, First Class that should have been his when he captured Black for the Dementors, and an international portkey.

The latter was essential to making life in America tolerable. He eyed the tattered spoon resting on the mantle. Despite everything, Severus was a creature of habit. He knew the various apothecaries and where to find the best and rarest ingredients in Britain. America was still largely a mystery. Most of the wizarding population was along the East Coast, and those possessing magical blood on this side of the continent were few and far between. There was nothing like the vast trade network of magical goods he was accustomed to in this strange land.

With a grimace, he reminded himself that was precisely the reason he came here in the first place.

Solitude.

Anonymity.

Exile.

And, he was loathe to admit, the possibility of peace.


	2. Chapter Two

A/N: The magical world of Harry Potter and all characters from said world of wonder belong to J.K. Rowling, not me. All characters original to this fanfiction do, however, belong to me. I do not make any money from this work, just reviews and entertained readers.

Pardon my Americanisms, errors, and anything else that doesn't suit your tastes. This story is AU will likely not be consistent with Rowling's depiction of magical America. Sorry.

If you like what you're reading and where you think this is going, tell me so. I'm afraid this tale might wither and die without motivating words...

* * *

The harsh cawing of the crows awoke him in a terrible mood. He sat up slowly, one hand on the couch for support and the other rubbing his aching head. Groaning, he opened an eye to sneer at the empty bottle on his coffee table. The hand on the couch fumbled for his wand and banished the shameful evidence of last night's self indulgence with a flick of his wrist.

The birds were still at it. Was this retribution for startling them upon his arrival yesterday?

"Oh shut it, you mangy fowl!" he growled as he stumbled to the open window. The grey morning light hit him square in the face and he blinked furiously.

The mountain swam before his sensitive vision and he found his breath catch in his lungs.

The property's view was enough to temporarily sober even Severus's temper. For now and the many days to come, he silently hoped. Unencumbered nature basked before his sight, the only other humanity evidenced by the two larger homes further down the hill. The lush expanse of green was like a balm and the pockets of fading wildflowers waved cheerily at him.

They had better not expect him to respond to their greeting in kind.

Severus turned his attention to the crows roosting in the large evergreens that bordered the left side of his shack. Their beady black eyes – no, he would not acknowledge their likeness to his own – silently regarded him from their lofty position. He stiffened, incensed at their unspoken challenge.

 _Go ahead, close the window. Like that will stop us._

He almost did, before he realized that he was feuding with nothing more than a gang of pea-brained birds. Severus scolded himself. Don't act like a child.

Spinning away from the open window, he made his way to the small, single bathroom to prepare himself for his first day of exile.

* * *

He was scribbling an observation in his notebook about the unexpected color of the potion simmering on the counter when he heard it. Someone without his experience in espionage would likely have thought it imagined upon first hearing, lost amid the racket the crows refused to let up.

Music.

It was faint. He doubted he would have noticed had it not been for the window that had remained open throughout the day. Damned if he would give the birds their satisfaction.

He tilted his head slightly to focus on the sound. A piano? Why did it sound familiar?

Furrowing his brow, he pushed the thought to the back of his mind and resumed his experimentation. Perhaps ground scarab beetles rather than whole ones would reverse the effects of the Babbling Beverage?

A sudden increase in the crows' volume made him look up from his notes again. They sounded as if something had upset them, and he couldn't keep his mouth from twisting in satisfaction. There was a light scratching of talons on the soft wood of his window. Severus turned and was surprised to see a small, stout owl gazing at him. It's brown feathers and long, striped tail were unfamiliar to him.

The way it was holding out its leg was, however, quite familiar.

Who could be contacting him here?

He pushed himself off the kitchen stool and walked over to relieve the unamused bird of its missive. As it didn't immediately fly away, Severus assumed he was expected to respond to whatever the letter said. Pursing his lips in annoyance, he eyed the equally grim bird as he rolled open the – parchment? No, this was Muggle paper, meant for machines that spurted ink in neat little symbols. Confused, he cast his eyes on the words.

 _To the famous Severus Snape,_

 _Welcome! When I was told by the British Ministry of Magic that you had moved to Dawnwood, I couldn't believe my ears! What an honor for our little town! You might not have known, but there are a few magical families who live around these parts. We would like to invite you to a little get-together this Saturday at noon. We really hope you'll join us at the Murphy home for a chance to get to know each other! Please send your reply back with Humbug!_

 _Cheers!_

 _Jake Murphy_

 _Mayor of Dawnwood, Washington_

With a slight gag at the machine-printed words - especially due to their casual tone and absurd overuse of punctuation – Severus reeled. Who was this Jake Murphy who used Muggle stationary and wanted to "get to know" him? Of all the ridiculous things to suggest. No one who knew him in Britain would dare intimate such a thing. With a small pang of discomfort, he realized that his reputation as the feared potions professor didn't exist out here. His global image was firmly grounded in his newly-viewed role during the First and Second Wizarding Wars.

"Humbug, I presume?" he asked the stern owl. Its miniature size made its irked expression quite amusing to behold, somewhere between a petulant child and an ornery old man.

Shooting one last look at the little owl who hadn't stopped drilling holes into his soul with its yellow eyes, he went to fetch his far more reasonable quill and parchment.

 _Mr. Mayor,_

 _I must decline your rather odious offer. I was unaware that anyone from the British Ministry had sent word of my relocation, but believe me, I intend to find out who did. The only thing I desire is quiet and solitude. I have no plans to socialize with you or anyone else in this sorry excuse of a town._

 _With regards,_

 _Severus Snape_

Confident that his meaning was clear and his personality properly represented, Severus rolled the note and tied it to the owl's leg. It seemed to scowl at him as he fumbled slightly with its tiny appendage. Bloody American birds. Why couldn't they be a respectable size, and why couldn't they ever shut up? This last comment drew his line of sight back to the black eyes that glittered mischievously from the treetops. Oddly enough, the owl's eyes followed his gaze. Its delicately patterned feathers swelled from its chest indignantly and several of the crows hastily took flight. For the first time since he arrived, Severus chuckled.

"You're not so bad, are you, bird?" Its head swiveled to pierce him with a yellow look of scorn once again. "Pity about the name though. Off with you now."

The petite owl needed no further bidding. As it disappeared into the unyielding line of trees, Severus couldn't help but feel as though he had just left the company of a kindred spirit.

* * *

Evening found Severus curled on the couch again. This time the Firewhisky remained in the topmost kitchen cupboard. A book on magical immigration to America in colonial times was his chosen entertainment for the night. If he was going to reside in this country, he had better know something about it.

The window was still open. Despite the gentle chill in the air, Severus hadn't had the will to close it since he first arrived.

Something haunted him.

Maybe he had left the window open to admire his personal view of heaven. Maybe he liked the juxtaposition of the fall chill and the warm fire in the air. Maybe he was still having a go with the crows who had mercifully given up for the night.

Maybe he hoped to hear the music again.

A rustle of wings at the window in question alerted him, and he swore he could feel those evil yellow eyes before he got up. Book discarded on the arm of the couch, he relieved the very aggravated owl of the Mayor's reply. As soon as the note was freed from its leg, it whirled off into the night. No reply expected then, he thought, thank goodness.

 _Famous Mr. Snape,_

 _I'm sure you're going to love the Cayton family. They'll be at our Saturday gathering and eager to meet you! I hope you'll stop by, even just for a minute. We're going to fire up the grill! Trust me, you don't want to miss Miles Cayton's burgers! Looking forward to Saturday!_

 _Cheers!_

 _Mayor Jake_

What an insufferable man! Severus crumpled the note in his fists and hastily chucked it at the fireplace. Had he not been particularly clear about his intentions? Was the man daft?

Probably.

Bloody Americans.

It was a tragedy that Severus had ever become a citizen. It had made his transition and all its paperwork much simpler, but it didn't make it right.

He shuddered at the bitter taste in his mouth.

And then it started.

The music.

Still by the window, he froze and peered out into the darkness.

A sighing piano interlude, so tender in its simplicity that his heart slowed with a thud in his chest. He gripped the window frame, nails digging into the aged wood as he leaned forward to drink in the sound.

It was coming from one of the houses down the hill.

Then a lone, baritone voice drifted up to him. The words that rode the waves of the voice chilled his skin as if he had just come face to face with a Dementor. Yet, not. The warmth of the piano – that piano! It buoyed him up in a way that he couldn't rationalize.

And then it was done.

Severus couldn't breathe for a moment. With a roar his consciousness came back to him.

More!

Why hadn't there been more?

Why did he want more?

Knuckles white, he grit his teeth. This was reasonless. Music had never been a part of his life at Hogwarts. The silence of the dungeons, his dungeons, was bliss to his ears. He'd never desired music to fill any void or serve to distract him. Merlin forbid he be forced to listen to Flitwick's abominable Toad Choir.

Why did he need more?

His black gaze scanned the dark woods for the pinpricks of light he knew must be coming from the houses further down the hill. Sure enough, he spotted an unnatural Muggle light peeking out from between the dense trees.

Vainly, he drew his wand and aimed for the speck of light.

" _Sonorus!_ "

Amazingly, more sound wafted up to him. He must have successfully hit the window of the distant house.

"...should be fine for tomorrow night. I'm not worried about it at all. I'm glad we ran through it once before then," a male voice was saying.

"Me too, Jerry. I'll see you tomorrow to warm up. Goodnight," a sweeter voice responded. A woman. A minute later, the sound of an engine starting up and winding its way into the night told him someone had left.

Damn! He had missed anything that could have clued him in to who had sent the ambrosial music to his ears. Or when he could expect it again. His shoulders slumped in defeat. He mentally cataloged the name Jerry associated with the male voice he heard. Severus lightly noted that his penchant for collecting information was present as ever.

The piano began sighing.

Elated – albeit thoroughly frustrated that he felt such a strong reaction – he basked in the amplified sound.

Without the vocals, he was washed in a bath of pure warmth. No words to call upon him, no words to point a finger at him, no words that made him eerily guilty.

As the last chord faded into the night, he watched the light vanish with a soft click. He could almost make out the sound of tired footsteps on stairs.

" _Quietus._ "

* * *

A/N: The numerous pieces of music that will be the backbone of this story will be linked at the end of each chapter. I strongly encourage listening to the music as you read. As a pianist and classically trained and educated musician myself, I hope to introduce my readers to the magic of music. Maybe you'll be inspired by these works just as I have been. As a side note, all the pieces in this story have been a part of my personal repertoire and career as a pianist.

This chapter's song is Litany by John Musto, a contemporary favorite of mine. Add the following to YouTube . com

 _watch?v=zCPFZMEfWIA_


	3. Chapter Three

A/N: The magical world of Harry Potter and all characters from said world of wonder belong to J.K. Rowling, not me. All characters original to this fanfiction do, however, belong to me. I do not make any money from this work, just reviews and entertained readers.

Pardon my Americanisms, errors, and anything else that doesn't suit your tastes. This story is AU will likely not be consistent with Rowling's depiction of magical America. Sorry.

If you like what you're reading and where you think this is going, tell me so. I'm afraid this tale might wither and die without motivating words...

* * *

He knew he wasn't dreaming, but he knew he was asleep.

Were these memories?

He was laying in the bed, marinating in Firewhisky. It was enough to cause his frayed nerve endings to tingle. Good, they were still there. It was hard to tell without the alcohol.

The light on the ceiling was rapidly cycling through morning, afternoon, evening, and darkness. He felt his chest rising and falling in sync with the cycling days. The shadows his furniture cast were growing and shrinking in time. It should have made him horribly dizzy, but his mind felt sharper than it ever could with that much Firewhisky pulsing in his veins. Whatever this vision was, it seemed to want him alert.

Indeed, he began to pick out the sound of the piano amid the buzzing in his ears. It was playing too quickly for him to latch onto any melodies or phrases. Never mind the fact that it would start and stop at seemingly random intervals.

The days spun faster and faster. This buzzing in his ears grew louder and louder.

And the music faded softer and softer.

Darkness.

Severus's eyes opened to a scene so similar to his dream that he blinked them to make sure he was truly awake.

That's why the presence of music had been so familiar to him. He had heard it in his past visits without realizing it.

He scoffed. That wasn't a surprise.

His previous stays had been so drowned in drunkenness and lethargy that the sight of Albus and the Dark Lord playing Quidditch wouldn't have phased him. Severus knew he should be ashamed of his past behavior, but those days when he could drink himself silly and feel the Firewhisky alight his nerve endings were the only times he'd felt in touch with them again.

The times he'd felt alive again.

At least they were less painful than the other times.

The moments when his nerves were screaming in agony, blatantly reminding him that they were still capable of responding, only to lapse back into nothingness until the Dark Lord uttered the Cruciatus again.

The mere thought of the curse caused a light sweat to form on his pale brow and his heart to race in anticipation. Rising and discarding the bedsheets, he put the dream out of his mind and went to perform his morning ablutions.

* * *

It was a bleak Friday morning, which meant that the dreaded Saturday gathering was only a day away. Severus resolved that if he ever allowed Mayor Murphy to pry him from this building, it would be as a corpse.

He ate his breakfast of toast at the small kitchen table and continued reading about the establishment of the Roanoke Colony and how foolishly they executed their decision to forsake the Muggle world. By midday he was elbow deep in potion ingredients and enveloped in the translucent smoke that rose from the cauldron he was using for his experiments. The afternoon came and went, the tension in his shoulders tightening as the light began to fade. Late into the evening, he stopped in front of a particular cupboard.

His hand reached for the handle, but his head turned to the open window.

Why hadn't he heard anything?

Of course, he had heard the crows, but he would deal with them soon enough if everything went according to plan.

Why hadn't he heard anything?

He was sorely tempted to cast another Amplifying Charm, more than he was tempted to spark his nerves with Firewhisky.

No. No use being silly. He had more self-control – more dignity – than that.

He laughed aloud, a derisive bark. Music. He had never needed it and refused to think he needed it now.

It was merely a curiosity. An oddity of his foreign surroundings. Just a noisy neighbor.

Get a grip, Severus, or America will change you.

He certainly didn't want that.

Turning back to the cupboard, he proceeded to remind himself that he could want or feel anything at all.

Severus desperately wished to sleep in and nurse his hangover properly, but the hoarse caws of the black devils in his yard were like fingernails on a chalkboard. Wasn't this why he had devised a spell to write full sets instructions with a wave of his hand?

Wand warm in his grip, he moved to the window and wantonly sliced the air in the direction of the crows.

" _Silencio! Silencio!_ I said _Silencio_ you diseased poultry!" The Silencing Charms that shot from his wand tip wouldn't have done much even if they had hit their marks. Ravens and their relatives were notoriously resistant to the spell.

He was about to give in and close the window when a small figure swooped below the low blanket of grey clouds. The pygmy owl landed gracefully on the windowsill, leg out and yellow eyes bright in irritation.

Oh, blast it all, what now?

Severus tugged the note loose and watched the brown bird ruffle his feathers in disdain, leaving as quickly as he appeared.

A very good morning to you too.

The message was a rolled Muggle business card, the paper stiff and hard to manipulate. Severus wondered again just what sort of wizard Mayor Murphy was. The unfamiliar cardstock was not nearly as supple or elegant as traditional parchment. Were all American wizards like this? As if Americans had any finesse, he thought with a dark chuckle.

The address on the card had been circled in blue ink. He could tell that it was not ink from a quill. Next to it was something that riled him more than all the exclamation points the Mayor had used thus far combined.

A smiley face.


	4. Chapter Four

A/N: The magical world of Harry Potter and all characters from said world of wonder belong to J.K. Rowling, not me. All characters original to this fanfiction do, however, belong to me. I do not make any money from this work, just reviews and entertained readers.

Pardon my Americanisms, errors, and anything else that doesn't suit your tastes. This story is AU will likely not be consistent with Rowling's depiction of magical America. Sorry.

If you like what you're reading and where you think this is going, tell me so. I'm afraid this tale might wither and die without motivating words...

* * *

Noon had come and gone, and Severus was immensely pleased. Dragging his stool to sit in front of the ever-open window, he balanced the bowl of roasted chestnuts on his lap. The batch of aromatic nuts had turned out well. He only hoped that the previous batch, the one that had been soaked in the finished potion, was just as successful.

The patch of grass directly in front of the window was littered with chestnuts. The infusion of Everlasting Elixir into his brew had given the nuts a glossy sheen that caught the brief moments of sunlight that managed to break through the grey clouds. It was a serendipitous result that he hoped would aid in attracting the crows. The aroma alone would probably be enough.

Severus ate a plain chestnut, his dark eyes scanning the treeline. They had better take the bait. Perhaps he should have used Drink of Despair. That would teach them a lesson.

After a moment of hesitation, one of the crows swooped down onto the grass. It eyed Severus sitting in the window before swaggering over to one of the chestnuts. It scooped it into its beak and flapped away. Emboldened by the apparent triumph of the first of Severus's victims, more of the crows descended to partake of his offering. Before long, every member of the gang of black birds had eaten a chestnut.

Back in the treetops, Severus saw one of the birds open its beak and its breast pump air out.

Silence. Blessed silence.

For several minutes he listened to nothing but his own chewing, savoring both the taste of his snack and his victory. The faint and far less intrusive sound of flapping wings was all the noise that came from the panicking crows. Practically gleeful, he popped another chestnut in his mouth and crunched it thoroughly.

Potions had never failed him.

* * *

As he mulled over his third dinner in a row of reheated beef stew, Severus could help but entertain a longing for the meals at Hogwarts. He hadn't brought a House Elf with him, as they were illegal in America. Another absurd aspect of this country, where freedom permeated all facets of life. He was appreciating the refilling platters of sandwiches and goblets of pumpkin juice when the piano interrupted his foray into his past.

It was eerie, like a Siren, the way it drew his consciousness toward the open window. Severus stopped himself from jumping up and rushing over to cast an Amplifying Charm. He was a patient man, a controlled man. He would get up when he was good and ready.

He let the faint sound circle his ears while he contemplatively finished his dinner. The music was clearly segmented and each part had its own mood. Some were raucous and twirled like dancing gypsies while others were like a dewy mist along the shore. In his mind, the merrier characters paled in comparison to the specters that drifted through the fog. It wasn't what many would call beautiful. The music was dissonant and jabbed at the listener harshly. Much to Severus's own surprise, he found that he thoroughly enjoyed it. For a man who had an ugly view of himself and of his life, this ugly music seemed fitting. The things he had seen, the things he had done – both willingly and not – had shaped his sarcastic and caustic personality. Whoever wrote this music must have understood just as well as he that life isn't fair, life isn't elegant, and life most certainly isn't always pretty.

Whoever was playing the music must be capable of tolerating that dissonance.

Could they tolerate him?

His bowl empty, Severus rose from the table and pushed his chair over to the window. The music was growing into a cacophonous climax. He aimed for the same spot beyond the trees and cast a quick Amplifying Charm before he sat down. Just moments later the piece abruptly ended with a crash of bright notes.

Was it over? Had he waited too long to give in to his petty wish to listen more closely?

A soft sigh made its way to his ears. Then, after the rustling of pages, a slow mysterious ticking noise. The piano began playing one section of the same music he had just heard in time with the slow beat.

Severus then sighed himself. They were practicing with a metronome. It didn't promise to be as engaging as listening to a polished performance, but he had no desire to stop listening. He didn't know how long he sat there with his eyes closed and ears open. One particularly dense passage was being played many times in succession, each iteration following a slightly faster setting of the metronome until it was back to the original tempo. Any mistakes were quickly caught and hammered out. Whoever was in the house down the hill had a sense of discipline and patience that Severus could admire. Even as an observer, he could tell that this was not an easy or pleasurable endeavor. This was work. Meticulous work.

Once the passage had been revised to their liking, another section received the same treatment with the metronome. This patterned continued until Severus found himself wishing he had a window in the bedroom. He would be much more comfortable lying down than in this hard wooden chair. Glancing at the clock on the mantle, he realized why he was feeling stiff. It had been almost two hours since the music started.

Shocked that he had lost all sense of time, he stood and braced himself against the window frame to stretch his back. How long would they practice? The sun was low in the sky and threatened to set soon. Part of him – a part that was often beaten into submission by his mental control – was wroth to miss any moment of the music for fear that it would stop and never come back.

With a scowl, he decided that he couldn't spend hours idly spying on his neighbor. That would make him no better than Lily's horrid sister. He clenched his fist as he indulged the unwelcome memory from his childhood. When the little brat hadn't been berating them about their "freak" magical abilities, she had been spreading gossip around the neighborhood like Fiendfyre.

Severus walked to the couch and retrieved his book from where it had rested on the coffee table. Reading was a much better use of his time. If he could still hear the amplified sounds coming from the other house, so be it. It was simply an enjoyable bonus, that was all.

* * *

He was beyond hearing anything but the involuntary screams at this point. His heart raced wildly in his chest, filling him with awareness, such hearty awareness. Severus's eyes were squeezed shut in agony and his grimace disguised his satisfaction. Yes, he was alive. He could feel it. Death would be much softer than this. Wave after wave of life-giving pain came over him, each more reassuring than the last. He couldn't hear who was casting the Cruciatus over his own screams echoing in his ears.

Suddenly, the pain retreated. He was numb and blind. This wasn't what he wanted. Confusion and panic overcame him. Where had his pain gone, that merciless confirmation that he was still among the living? Was this death? Something hot was trickling down his neck, leaving a burning trail along his sweaty skin. He was bleeding. He was bleeding blood tainted with venom.

No! Not possible! Not again! Clumsy, swollen hands slick with perspiration and blood fumbled along his waist. He didn't have anything on him, no potions to save him this time. Sweet Merlin, he was going to die.

Severus awoke to find himself upright on the couch, his wand at the ready and his clothes drenched in a cold sweat. The midday light pouring in from the window seared his vision. His chest ached from hyperventilation as he lowered his shaking wand arm.

Just another nightmare.

Standing slowly, he groaned as his wet clothes stuck to the equally damp couch with a sickening noise. He didn't remember falling asleep.

" _Tergeo_ ," he softly muttered and watched guiltily as his sweat evaporated from the plush fabric. What a mess, he thought to himself, admonishing his behavior as much as the state of his living area. " _Scourgify_." A ghostly layer of dust rose from the cushions, catching the bright sunlight that reminded him how late he had slept without the cawing of crows. For a moment he wondered if their racket hadn't been a blessing in disguise.

A sharp tapping brought his focus to the windowsill. The mayor's owl was gazing meaningfully at him. Its yellow eyes seemed to hold more than their usual grumpy expression. It made him nervous. Severus wondered how long it had been watching him, how much it had seen.

Preposterous! He felt his temper return. Why on earth would a judgmental owl make him nervous? His life was none if its business. It was just a messenger for that horrible excuse of a wizard.

With a determined scowl, he walked to the window with as much grace as his wet clothing would allow. He ripped the missive from the bird's leg with more force than necessary, which earned him a high screech and bite on the finger.

"Ah! How dare you?" He instinctively sucked the wound to stem the drop of blood. The little creature flapped its wings threateningly and screeched again. For as foreboding as it tried to make its body, Severus had to admit that its eyes were far more effective.

"Have you been loitering on my windowsill, bird?" he growled as he lowered his eyes to examine his index finger. "Or did you conveniently arrive after I awoke?" He looked up to see the challenge in its yellow expression. Incensed, he sneered back as he unrolled the Muggle paper.

"Mind yourself, Humbug." His mouth lingered over the supposedly endearing name. "I regularly gut and clean animals far larger than you for my potions." The stout owl ignored him and began preening its feathers in disgust. Severus continued to glare for a minute longer, gauging the response of the proud bird, before he finally read the note.

 _Famous Mr. Snape,_

 _We missed you yesterday! The Caytons were sorry you couldn't make it. Their youngest boy had one of your Chocolate Frog cards and was hoping you'd autograph it! Anyways, the wife and I have a standing lunch date Wednesdays at noon at the diner in town. We'd love it if you joined us! We could show you around and let you see everything our little town has to offer! Looking forward to seeing Humbug bring your reply!_

 _Cheers!_

 _Mayor Jake_

With an exasperated sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. The man was relentless. He couldn't help but sigh again at the thought of continually thwarting the mayor's invitations for the unforeseeable future. At least the letters were free tinder. To think that Severus would ever willingly agree to becoming such a casual third wheel! Either the man really was daft or Severus needed to work harder at scaring the locals into leaving him alone.

Yet even as his Potions Master persona raged away at the invitation, a small part of him wanted to give in and appease the mayor's curiosity. It would certainly be easier than constantly turning him down. Against his will, his mouth watered at the thought of the hearty food the diner must serve. It would definitely be a step closer to the Hogwarts feasts than his leftovers.

No. He had made his position clear. He wanted nothing more than solitude to come to terms with the events of his life, to find solace in the scenery and distance himself from the wizarding world. If he went into town, it would be on his own time table and without company. As he begrudgingly looked toward his kitchen, he realized that he would have to make the trip into town sooner or later. Buying groceries locally would be much less of a hassle than portkeying to London where he would instantly be recognized.

"Wait here," he commanded the owl on his windowsill, still haughtily ignoring him. The mayor would get a reply, but not before Severus washed away his nightmare with a hot shower. He had to keep his priorities straight, after all.

He emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later with his lank hair wet and a towel around his waist. It only took him one step from the bathroom door to freeze.

There was music in the air.

It was thick and rich and most of all, it was quite loud.

Humbug's eyes were wider than usual and fixed on him quizzically before closing into accusatory slits.

Severus's heart sank as he realized that he never performed the counter charm on his neighbor's window. He had fallen asleep reading and listening last night.

Torn between embarrassment and the powerful urge to send his visitor away so he could listen in peace, he rushed to grab his parchment and quill. Ignoring the owl, who was once again making him irrationally nervous, he scribbled:

 _Mr. Mayor,_

 _As stated in my previous missive, I have no desire for companionship, no interest in camaraderie, and certainly do not harbor a wish to sign those damned unlicensed Chocolate Frog cards, of all things. Do not expect me this Wednesday._

 _Regards,_

 _Severus Snape_

Rolling the note as quickly as his agile fingers could, he approached the brown little owl. Apparently he had approached too quickly because Humbug gave another shrill screech and beat his wings. It seemed he would need to resolve their little spat before the bird would let him send his message.

"Calm down," he grit out from behind his teeth and took a step back. Humbug folded his wings and narrowed his eyes questioningly once again.

"Is it a crime to enjoy good music?" he shot at the miniscule figure that seemed to house a much larger personality than its stature would allow. Its only response was a sharp tilt of its head, eyes never wavering. Severus sighed with resignation and slowly articulated a peace offering. "In the future, I will refrain from handling you or the messages you carry with more force than is necessary. Does that suit you?"

For a long second neither of them moved. Finally, the brown owl blinked its angry yellow eyes back to their usual state and held out its leg. Severus gingerly took a step forward and reached out with his note. When he wasn't bitten, he hurriedly tied the parchment to the bird's leg and jumped back, giving it room in case it changed its mind.

With in indignant air, Humbug swept away into the sky. It was mostly clear this morning. Or was it afternoon? Severus had not checked the time yet. Judging by the sun, he had at least a few hours of light left. Keeping one ear on the music pouring from his window like molasses, he retrieved a pair of trousers from the bedroom and pulled them on quickly. He had planned to spend the afternoon chopping firewood for the coming winter. While he could have easily accomplished the task with magic, he chose to do it the Muggle way in attempt to implement some exercise into his routine. If he happened to be able to hear his neighbor's piano, then so be it. At least that was what he told himself.

However, he first needed to eat something. Severus quickly made a couple slices of toast and was just spreading some orange marmalade on the second slice when the music morphed into something that literally made him fall to his knees with a crash of cutlery. His breath came in short gasps. He braced his hands against the floor and let his wet hair fall forward in front of his face. By all things sacred, how did this music make him react so?! All things sacred, indeed. Crawling to the window, unable to resist the pull of the heavenly sound, he admitted that whoever was making this music was creating something sacred, like the gods. It was like a reverent salve on his spirit. In silent awe, he knelt in front of the window and bowed his head once again. Every cadence was utter completion and every resolution was a brilliant diamond. Every swell pulled him up before placing him gently back down like a mother lays a child in bed. As the middle section of the piece began he heard a car approaching, but desperately put it out of his mind as he continued to worship this experience. Did whoever was playing know that they were casting a spell on him? It was truly like magic. Did they intent to beckon him to come forth unto them with his wounded soul to be whole? Had he been Imperio'ed?

The slam of car doors and sound of gravel crunching was quickly followed by a ringing doorbell. The stream of music abruptly stopped, causing Severus to practically writhe from its absence. What was wrong with him? Merlin's beard, he thought, get a hold of yourself!

"Come in, come in! I was just warming up." It was the woman's sweet voice again. Having heard her voice twice, Severus assumed she was the house's occupant. "How are you today?"

Severus couldn't make out the reply as it was too soft for the Amplifying Charm to carry to his window. He did, however, hear not one, but three women laugh at the unheard comment. Coming out of the spell he was under, he slowly picked himself up and staggered to the couch.

"It's been a good day so far, miss. She's been looking forward to visiting you all morning." This was a new voice, higher and more feminine than the first, although less melodic. Severus stared at the ceiling as he raptly absorbed every sound that reached his ears.

"We'll put you over here in your usual spot then, Mama," the sweet voice was saying as the sound of footsteps and something like wheels came to him. The way she said the word "Mama" was unusual, with the accent on the second syllable. There was another soft response that Severus couldn't make out.

"If you'd like, that's fine too," the sweet voice said. Severus firmly decided that this voice was more to his liking than the higher voice. This voice was like honey: sweet, sticky, and with more substance than plain sugar. There were more shuffling sounds and the rolling of wheels.

"Is this alright, sweetheart? Can you see from here?" asked the high voice. Another soft reply. "Good, good. Whenever you're ready, Anna."

There was a moment of silence.

Then the piano was alive again, replaying the thick and rich music that he had heard in Humbug's presence.

Anna.

Her name was Anna.

He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, as if he could somehow better understand the music if he breathed more of the air through which it resonated. The notes tumbled around him like a waterfall of sound.

Then, before he knew it, the music morphed back into the sacred hymn he had worshiped earlier, the same heavenly bliss that had brought him to his knees.

Anna, Goddess of music.

Now he knew.

Severus didn't move a muscle, savoring the chance to relive his earlier experience, this time without an interruption. To his utter shock, it was more delicious the second time around. His soul, his wounded soul, cried out in his chest.

And just when he thought it couldn't get any better, a new section blossomed. It was in a slow major key, so hopeful, so simple, and exactly what he needed. He remained perfectly still. Almost. Unbidden and unable to defy the music, his right arm slid over his heart and clutched at the skin there in a vain attempt to keep his soul tethered to his body.

Glorious.

Anna, Goddess of music.

Motionless on the outside, his wounded soul was rattling around in the cage of his chest in anguish. Grieving. Yes, it was truly grieving. He let the piece finish, anticipating what might come next.

But she didn't continue.

"Mama?"

Straining, Severus could barely make out muffled sobs.

"Oh, Mama!" There were quick footsteps and the brushing of clothing. "What's wrong? Don't cry or I'll start crying too." Anna's voice broke on the last word.

Severus didn't need to wonder what was happening. He knew that the mother was doing what he wouldn't allow himself to do. She was weeping over the beauty her daughter wove through the air, her body reacting in a way Severus was too proud to allow his: releasing the pain and emotion through tears.

He opened his eyes slowly and waited as the minutes passed. All he heard was the gentle weeping amongst the women and hushed words of comfort that he couldn't interpret. A chill crept up the back of his neck. He was an unknown intruder on their tender scene. Despite his history as a spy, he felt at fault for invading his neighbor's privacy. While the volume of the piano might carry naturally, a whispered moment of sorrow was definitely not being willingly broadcast to the nearby houses. Unless, of course, your neighbor happened to be a wizard with alarmingly little self-control when it came to eavesdropping.

Severus set his jaw and clenched his fists. What was he doing? He had given in again to the spell of the music. This wasn't right. He was better than this. Hadn't he had plans for the afternoon? Rising from his prone position, he flung the counter charm at the distant window and ran a hand through his damp hair.

* * *

An hour later, the interrupted toast had been hastily eaten and a significant portion of the logs leaning against the left side of the cabin were now neatly segmented and stacked. Severus set down the heavy ax and wiped his brow. In the far reaches of his mind, he realized that his soul felt a touch less raw. He took a deep, cleansing breath of the crisp mountain air and swore that his chest could fill more than it used to. It must be the physical exercise, he told himself. What he wouldn't tell himself was that it had been the music's healing spell. What a silly notion that would be.

He had just bent down to begin chopping again when the faint dance-like music of the piano wafted up to him. It was upbeat and raucously satisfying. Before he realized what he was doing, his lips curved up into a small smile. From the sound of it, things were finally a little less morose in the house down the hill.

Impulsively, Severus turned his smile toward the ever present sentry that was the mountain. Breathing deeply once again he let his gaze linger on the vibrant colors the sunset created before setting his mouth back to its usual pose and getting back to work.

* * *

A/N: This chapter has a couple pieces. The first might take a while to digest, as it is an acquired taste. I personally love dissonant music, and I was blessed to perform this one at a festival in Italy where I won a award for my interpretation. It is Bela Bartok's Improvisations on Hungarian Peasant Songs Op. 20. Listen to the whole thing. You can do it. Really.

Add the following to YouTube . com

 _watch?v=O4hlUdSyLkw_

The second piece is Brahms Op. 118, a piece very dear to my heart. There are six movements to this work and while this chapter only mentions the first three, I hope you will take the time to listen to the rest.

I. Intermezzo in A Minor (this is what Snape hears during Humbug's visit)

II. Intermezzo in A Major (the heavenly music)

III. Ballade in G Minor (what he hears at the end of the chapter)

IV. Intermezzo in F Minor

V. Romance in F

VI. Intermezzo in E-flat Minor

Add the following to YouTube . com

 _watch?v=99Z29dsxRH4_


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